


Dreams and Reality

by TalNaernihae



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Help, Other, Tags May Change, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalNaernihae/pseuds/TalNaernihae
Summary: It can be soo hard to tell where a Dream ends and Reality takes over.When one starts dreaming about a certain alien sewer clown, that line blurrs even more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chaptered work. I'll add to it as the muse strikes me and I have time @-@

Waking up is painful. It shouldn't be. Why was there pain? What is it, what, what, why-

Oh. Leg is broken. That's not good. Well, not broken, don't exaggerate. The knee is really swollen though, and standing is going to be a real bitch of a time. The headache isn't helping matters either. Look around, maybe find something to pull your focus off the pain....?

Okay, bad idea. How the fuck.....why am I in a cistern? When did that happen? Brain hurts too much to think that far back. Okay, fine ow, point made brain, shut up now with the owie signals, would ya? There, a mountain of weird trash, focus on that a tic. Is that.....a clown face on the weird ass box at the base? Aw hell, this has to be a dream. They say you can't feel pain in a dream, but whoever "they" are, they don't know shit. Could be a dream. Oh hey, olfactory system, yes I know, we're in a sewer, don't clue in gag reflex, I'll never stop vomiting. 

...... And cue creepy laughter. Yeah, okay, I want to wake up now, please and thank you. A light (was it always on? Why am I just now noticing it?) shines from the large box. Is it a trailer? Someone is inside. The laughter slows to a warm chuckle several octives too deep and warped to be human. I'm trying my damndest not too move my leg too much, but there is no way I'm going to sit and...... I don't even know, my brain can't even process what the fuck is happening. A shadow has appeared in the doorway of the trail box thing, and im tired, but i dont want to be here, in this prone position, when who or whatever it is comes out here. I at least manage to get into an upright position, way to go me, now-

"WakEY wakEy tiiime."

I wake up. Huh. A dream after all. The pain is gone, in in my own bed. The smell is of my soap wafting from my bathroom and the plant life and sea outside. 

But that balloon wasn't there when I fell asleep. What the ever loving fuck...... A note is attached to it, reading "See you again soon, little pup. -P"

What.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some slight mention of previous mental instability here, but I mean SLIGHT. Wasn't entirely sure where i wanted to go with yhis chapter, but thought a nice lighter piece would work.

Later that week, at the grocery store, I was still confused about the whole thing, but doing my best to ignore it all. Call me avoidant, or stupid, but quite frankly, i had absolute zero interest in self torture when it comes to creepy mysteries. Did I have any clue how the damn bright red balloon had gotten into my house, let alone my room? Nope, and didn't care. Was the attached note creepy as fuck on top of seriously ominous? Certainly, but not a problem I had to deal with immediately, so ignore. Did I have a clue who the fuck "P" is? If we're following theme here, yes, but saying it or even thinking it would just make things worse, make them more real, and I am not on board with that right now thank you. Let me buy my frozen pizzas and fresh peaches in peace.

Peace wouldn't be mine today though. The same giggles I heard in that forsaken dream followed me all around the store. I looked for it, trying to move my head as little as possible, to minimize how far off the deep end of sanity I might seem, but could.never find the source. Sometimes they would rise and fall in pitch, depending on, seemingly, how truly amusing the chuckler found me, and how mocking in tone the laughter really was. The deeper the laugh, the more true amusement, while high pitches seemed more cruel and scoffing in tone.

Why the hell me reading nutrition information was hilarious to them, I don't really want to know.

It wasn't until I finally dragged myself to a checkout line that I spotted another red balloon floating among the aisles. I did my damndest to ignore it, resisting following the shiny latex material and focused instead on the items in my basket. No one else seemed to notice the freaking thing, and spending more time in a nut house was not in my life plan. When that pitchy voice started singing about oranges and lemons, I just hummed along. It's a catchy tune, dang it, but I'm not going to break over it. The cashier gave me a worried look, but she didn't -probably couldn't due to professionalism- say anything. I gave her my polite smile and thanked her, moving as swiftly as I dared back outside to pack my groceries into my tote and bookbags. 

Whatever had decided to fuck with me (I am not naming it, no no no, no thank you, it can't be) seemed almost disappointed in my lack of reactions, a sense of pouting and looming directly behind me almost making me want to reach back and gently pat a cheek in consolation. But I knew, if I entered that imaginary place of possibility and bent realities, that such an action would lose me a hand if the entity was who I thought it was. Even as I walked home, the presence stayed with me, making comments here and there about people and sights we passed.

"EeW, what IIISS thaT?" At the sight of a chiuaua.   
"I've seeN beTTEr. " was scoffed in the direction of an obvious plastic surgery victim. 

My favorite though, had to be the growling competition with the stray cat in my yard. I bit my lip soo hard trying not to give into the giggles, I almost bled. The entity seemed to scent the almost-blood smell, and was instantly at my back again as l finished putting away my purchases. 

I shouldn't have done it. I knew it even as I did it. But I was in the "safety" of my own home, no one else to see me give into temptation of my hallucination. It shouldn't have mattered yet couldn't have mattered more.

I turned to face it, IT, smiling cautiously, and told It, "Hullo Pennywise, it's nice to formally meet you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a flashback in the beginning, starting and ending between the asterisk lines. Possible warning: narrator describes an incident they are involved in at a mental ward.

******Flashback, a month ago******

"You lit it on fire and then said 'have fun'! What were you thinking? People could habe been hurt!"

He was yelling again. Dad could get like this, I was used to it. Granted, this time was a lot worse than my usual "psychotic episodes", so hearing him yelling like I had actually managed to kill someone this time wasn't all that unexpected. Still annoying as fuck, but not unexpected. He had been going for quite a while now. Apparently, lighting a dude's crotch on fire with a well tossed lit match after he had made some spectacularly annoying and harassing borederline threatening comments was not the proper way to function as an adult, let alone a contributing member to society. Who knew? Not me, thats for sure. 

So, yelling. For almost a half hour now.

Deep sigh.

When the psychistric ward nurses had wondered where I had even found the box of matches to begin with, I had just shrugged. Let them believe it was dumb luck. Telling them the truth, that I had seen a residual ghost/spirit/whatever put it there, and had retrieved the real thing shortly after, would not go over well. I was already in trouble for my violent behaviour, having a backslide in hallucinations would not help me at all. The nurses and doctors were nice, sure, but the mental hospital still felt like a prison. The doctors could see how being caged was hurting me, but they were more interested in pleasing my dad who was paying them to "cure" me of seeing ghosts and other things that "aren't really there".

It was days like this, I really missed my mom. She had always believed me, shielded me from dad's almost desperately psychotic need to silence what he didn't want to believe. But not a month after her cancer caused death, and he had me committed, at first citing he thought I was suicidal with grief, before bringing up the ghosts and ghouls sightings. The hospital waa under his bankroll, so I just had to pretend to his satisfaction that I was no longer seeing shit that wasn't there. 

It was a setback, yes, but I had my doctor's advice memorized, and was heading out the door two weeks later, free. 

Apparently, a dead man's bankroll means nothing.

******end flashback******

Empty air greeted my words. 

Yeah, I've finally said it. All these weird ass dreams and shit are just too damn close to what I've heard and read about people encountering Pennywise the Dancing Clown experience.

And for those of you going "oh, that's just a book/movie/story", yeah, fuck you. I may not be able to prove the multiverse theory is real, but you can't prove to me it's not real either. And who the fuck is to say an Eldritch horror creature from a macroverse can't jump realities and universes, hm?

That....presence, for lack of a better word, seemed to make the air hum with excitement, almost like glee, before going a unnerving calm again.

I went back to ignoring it. The docs had said to confront the hallucinations, so that's what I did. Good me, I deserve a cookie.

Then something grabbed my hip from behind.

"Are YOU ReadY to floA- EEEP!"

Okay. The groin I just hit with the meat tenderizer I had randomly grabbed was very solid. Possibly ruptured with how hard I hit it, but a possible dick was very much there. And that noise after I hit definitely went up like twelve octives from the beginning of that sentence.

I am soo dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but here , have a chapter.

Somehow I had maneuvered Pennywise (no mistaking that clown makeup anywhere, and no human could have gotten into my place, time to face that music), into a chair and loaded a bag of ice to put over Its crotch, gently manipulating the gloved hands (surprisingly soft) into holding the ice there. It hadn't made any other noise or movements on Its own since I had hit It, just clasping hands over wounded crotch and eyes closed.

On the inside, I was panicking, probably giving the Eldritch quite the balm for injured, uh, "pride". Yeah, I has half convinced myself I was just hallucinating, or some ghost or whatever was just playing some mean ass trick on me again (don't ask). But here was solid, silent proof that not only was my multiverse theory possible and probable, but I had what was soon likely to be an enraged human eater in my tiny kitchen area. The stupid part of my brain was remorseful over having hurt It, hating to hurt anything without just cause. It was the same part of me that pushed me from self defense to caretaker mode soo easily. I was fighting against a deep impulse to stroke Its head and murmur comforting things while waiting for the pain to pass. 

However, I'm not actually suicidal, and didn't want to push my luck. If I wasn't already on Pennywise's kill list (highly unlikely, let's be honest), me treating It like that might just push me over the edge into prey. 

When Pennywise's eyes finally opened, they were bright orange, but seemed more curious than enraged, and I clung to that as a positive sign. I had been quiet up until then, but after seeing I had Its attention, I couldn't help but to murmer, "I'm sorry."

A couple of blinks, but no other real response. 

Then It smiled.

My flight response was screaming at me to run, but where the fuck would I go? Even with a tenderized ...... whatever set up was there, the clown could just teleport and get in front of me instantly. I wasn't a great runner anyway, and it's not like I could hide someplace It couldn't find me within minutes if not seconds. 

It took all the control I had not to flinch as one hand was stretched out to gently boop me on the nose.

"SillY Puppy. Be a GoOd pup and givE Penny a HUg."

If my confusion wasn't complete before, it sure as fuck was now.

Ah well, at least I'll die getting a quick cuddle. Worse ways to go than that.

Slowly, I do as told, carefully coming in from the side, arms wrapping around satiny covered shoulders. The arm It lifted to poke me, wraps swiftly around my waist and my boobs are immediately nuzzled and used as pillows. I habe no idea why Pennywise is doing this, but a part of me, that stupid touch starved lost little twit, is grateful for this bit of.....mercy, perhaps unintended kindness. 

Of fucking course that's when he sank his teeth, rows of sharp fucking KNIVES, right into my breast bone between my tits. 

I passed out before I could even scream.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a long ass time since I wrote!  
> Some stress therapy on a sick day from work is as good a time as any, really, to write more what the fuckery.  
> I tried to make it a little longer, but my migraine started flaring again, so I called it a day.

I awaken to my stomach growling.

Not uncommon when I've taken naps, but I don't remember lying down for one, and it feels like I just plonked down on the floor, so why.......

Memory is a bitch that I have a passing poor relationship with. The mental images of the clown and the bite roil through my mind, and my hunger pangs turn to nausea. Well, at least me being on the floor makes sense now. I want to think the bite to my breasticles was payback for me hitting It in the crotchicles. It's never really a safe thing to do and assume when dealing with something that old and that cranky. 

I try to move as gingerly as I can. I don't feel like I'm being watched, and even if I were, it's not like Pennywise couldn't just knock me out again. ( My self preservation instincts have never worked properly, dying to me is not so much a concern as a fact). I feel slight tingles in my chest, but nothing like the rending pain that caused me to pass out. I have to do some deep breathing exercises before I can gather my courage and try to sit up. There's a sharp ache as i gather my arms into position and push up, but nothing that keeps me from moving into a proper sitting position. I let out a deep exhale and finally open my eyes. 

I almost end up flat on my back again in surprise. For some damn reason, Pennywise brought me back to the trailer thing I had seen in my dream. Not in the cistern part, but actually inside the box. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. On one hand, it's probably more comfy in here than it is out there. There's a small glow that my brain wants to call a candle, but isn't shaped quite right for. Some drawers and a small bookshelf, both strewn with knick knacks and random objects are in my direct line of vision. I turn my head slowly to look to my left, and notice I'm right up against the wall, the wood next to my cheek old but not as rotted as I feared it might be. I slowly sweep my head all the way to the right, taking in as much as I can about the small and cluttered space. Some books are stacked near what I think is the door, and random bits of cloth are everywhere, almost like a patchwork carpet. Feeling brave, I shuffle slowly, pausing to breathe through pain flares, until my back is leaning against the wall, and I can look at what was behind me.

Spooder!

.....I possibly am on the I yernet too damn much, but that is legit my first thought.

Pennywise (because I refuse to think there's another shapshifting horror down here) has taken on a spider form, curled neatly into a semi spherical shape with the back four legs tucked up under it and the front four spread out to brace and balance on Its obvious blanket nest. It's not sharp or bristley, but, well, fluffed. Maybe because of how cool it is down here, It made the spider form suit the climate. My brain is studiously avoiding thinking of it as cute. It seems to be asleep, or napping, and I suddenly feel sapped of any energy. Would It be okay with me cuddling up to one of Its floofy legs? My common sense mentally slaps me and reminds me spiders are predators, and this would be an excellent position for It to plunge an sharp little claw on the end of that leg right into me should I dare approach.

Fine. I'll wait for the asshole to wake up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long ass absense, have a little foreboding. 
> 
> Holy shit Batman, I kinda ...forgot I was writing this >//////<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting from mobile, so let me know if I need to fix the format.

The next time I open my eyes, I have to last minute restrain myself from wapping a certain clown monster upside the head with my arm. You would think that after last time It came up on me unexpectedly would have at least instilled a bit of caution, but nope. Pennywise was not even a full fucking inch away from my face, eyes that pretty blue color. I just blinked at It a few times, waiting for It to make the first move. Honestly, I still half expected It to just snap my neck or some other fatality move at any second, and was deeply shocked I was still alive. 

Pennywise smiled, and I caught a glimpse of those sharp teeth. I was still groggy, and not really in a position to fight much anyway, so I didn’t react. It didn’t seem to like that much, and started to frown, tilting Its head from one side to the other, as if trying to figure me out. Not a whole hell of a lot here, my dude. Just a tired ass human not in the mood for anything, let alone your psycho ass.

I kind of sort of forgot about Its ability to hear minds, as I thought that, but it reminded me of Its ability with a quick chuckle. “Silly SiLLy puppY. Did you not SlEEp gooOooOOood?”

I blinked some more. “I… never do, really. Can… I ask why you keep calling me puppy?”

It giggled and patted me (gently, holy shit) on the head. “CausssE you’re Penny’s puppy, Yes you ARE.”

Ah. Well. Not too damn much a person can say when something like Pennywise wants to treat you like a goddamn pet, I guess.

“Okay… may I sit up, please?”

It tapped Its bottom lip pensively, as if it was a really hard decision to make, but lifted me into a sitting position all the same. I couldn’t help the oddly fond thought of It being a bit of a drama queen. “Thank you.”

More high pitched giggles. “OooOh, suCH a polITE wittle pup now.”

Well hell dude, why not be polite? It won’t lose me anything, nor would being rude gain me something politeness wouldn’t, except maybe a negative reaction. 

It kept making some cooing noises as one would at a pet dog that had done something especially cute. I just sat there blinking some more (I may have a problem), trying to get my bearings. We were still in what must have been the trailer, although the blanket nest seemed to have a couple new additions. They could have just been under Pennywise while It had napped, and I just didn’t see them, but they looked less dirty than the others, so new seemed a better bet.

I must have been feeling optimistic, because I decided to push my luck and ask It some more questions. Well, I’d start with one more than see what happened. Optimistic does not mean stupid, after all. 

“Am I allowed to go back to my house?” Not ‘how did I get here’, or ‘why me’, or anything like that. I figured it would be a waste of time, and even if It told me, I probably wouldn’t understand the reasoning anyway. At least this question had the chance of a yes or no answer.

It seemed to consider my question for a while, as if It hadn’t thought of this during whatever planning went into bringing me here. “Hmmmm, I suppOse you’ll HAVE to at SomE PoiNt.”

Yeah, I know, a straight yes or no was hoping for too much. I didn’t push it though. I had gotten an answer and not attacked. I’d take what I could get.

“Thank you. I don’t know how to be a puppy though.” I figured a fair warning was only polite. I mean, I’d seen some stuff online, what adult hasn’t these days? But none of it had really struck me as something interesting. I have problems with sex stuff, and while animal/owner play, like age play, doesn’t have to be sexual, I still didn’t know anyone I trusted or knew well enough to actually try anything with. It had just seemed like something I saw on a BDSM site and moved on from.

More giggling, but this was closer to a soft chuckle, followed by more head pats. This time though, his fingers were claw tipped, and was lightly scratching the surface of my skin. It didn’t really hurt, but that sense of danger was increased. 

“Pennywise wilL tEAch you. YeS HE WILL.”

Oh boy.


End file.
